


Call Sign Gecko

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Community: tw_fallharvest, Cybernetics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about being at war is that eventually, someone’s going to come up with a way to win. And it will probably be the stupidest, most dangerous idea. Jackson doesn't approve of the plan Danny's come up with to get rid of the Kanima--the alien race that's been trying to kill off humanity--but he's also not going to let Danny do it alone. Jackson is the best pilot in the Alpha program, and he's going to get Danny in and out of the enemy base safely, or else die trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cruentum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/gifts).



> Dear cruentum, this is probably not what you were expecting. You said AU, and very AU, and then you said “space” and my mind just… wandered off into the distance and coughed up this. Which is WAY more epic than I meant to write (and it wanted to keep going). So um. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> I had a lot of fun drafting this story, and I am so incredibly thankful to my alpha reader M and my beta reader M; you are both incredible and this story would have been different without you.
> 
> I do not own the world or characters of Teen Wolf, I'm just borrowing them for this story.

The thing about being at war is that eventually, someone’s going to come up with a way to win. And it will probably be the stupidest, most dangerous idea, and Jackson has absolutely no problem telling that to his best friend.

“It’s a _bad idea_.” Jackson turns away from Danny to push the buttons of the replicator, fingers prodding the delicate surface harder than they need to in order to get his coffee and a breakfast wrap. The coffee comes up first and he picks it up, inhaling the strong scent and breathing it out again, as if the scent alone can wake him up before he takes a sip. It’s too early to be having this conversation.

“No, it’s not.” Danny claps him on the shoulder, squeezing. “It’s the best idea I’ve had, and the thing is, it’s already been approved. Project Deus Ex-Kanima is a green light. I’m working on my part, and it’s up to someone else to figure out how to get me in.”

This idea is so bad that Jackson can’t figure out how to get it across to Danny. To _Danny_ , the boy he grew up with who innocently trusts that everything’s just going to _work out_ because it always has. “It’s an _idiotic_ idea, Danny. You can’t just walk in and gain access to their machinery. You don’t even speak their language.”

“Actually yes, I do.” Danny grins. “Some of us spend our time studying, while others are busy flying loops around the rest of their squad, trying to impress people.”

There’s a soft pop and Jackson grabs his sandwich, tearing open the wrapper to expose the hot bread inside. He takes a bite and offers it to Danny, taking it back when Danny waves it off. “There isn’t a pilot in any of the squads good enough to get you inside undetected.”

“Huh.” Danny pushes away from the wall, eyebrows up as he starts to walk away backwards. “I was under the impression that there was exactly one pilot good enough. I figured that out of a dozen pilots, he might even be the one willing to do it, even if it’s just to keep an eye on my sorry ass.”

The taste of the sandwich is like glue in his mouth and Jackson has to wash it down quickly with too hot coffee. “Danny…”

“You’re the only one I’d trust,” he says. “I’ve already cleared it with Cap.”

Jackson’s gaze drops; he can’t let Danny see that he’s not sure of this. Because he can _do_ this. Danny’s right, there’s only one pilot who might be capable of it, and he’s the only one he’d trust with Danny. But it’s Danny’s life on the line, and Jackson doesn’t want to be the one putting him out there.

Still. Danny’s made it a point of honor, so Jackson’s head tilts and he smirks. “When you put it that way, how am I supposed to resist? If you’re determined to be an idiot, I’ll be the one to pull your ass out of the fire.”

Danny’s shoulders sag a little, tension lifting. “Good. I’ll let Cap know that you’ve promised to have my back.”

“Always. Back, front, whatever needs saving, I’m your guy.” Jackson tosses the half-eaten sandwich in the bin and guzzles the last of the coffee before pitching the cup as well. The faint crunch of the recycler sounds, chewing on the contents. It grates on Jackson’s nerves, his hearing not quite able to tune out the metallic whine of the gears, and he pushes at his left ear.

“You okay?”

The concern in Danny’s voice gets to Jackson. They’ve been friends a long time, but there are still a few things that Jackson can’t tell him, like the truth behind Alpha squad and _why_ Jackson is the best. There are prices to pay for everything, and Jackson long ago decided that the benefits outweighed the price of lying to his best friend. He claps Danny on the back, nudging him so that they walk out together. “Just a bit of a buzz in my ear. I promise, I’ll stop off and see the doc so you don’t have to worry.” He rolls his eyes. “Mother hen.”

“And who bought me my own headgear so I’d be protected if I went up in his Rabid?” Danny teases in return.

Jackson cuffs him lightly, and Danny shoves him back, and the conversation is forgotten.

Maybe someday Jackson will have to explain to Danny that he isn’t quite human anymore. But by the terms of his contract, he’s not allowed to do that, so it’s going to have to wait. Right now he has to figure out how to make sure Danny doesn’t get himself killed trying to save the world. First things first, and all that shit, right?

#

Jackson sits on the examination table, fingers curling around the edge as he hunches slightly forward, listening intently. A band wraps tight around his left shoulder, and he feels the steady pinpricks of pain, as if that particular part of his skin has fallen asleep. It’s an unpleasant sensation, but it’s worth it in the end. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Behind him, paper crumples and is tossed into the waste bin. He hears the gears crunch, and the high pitched whine, but he can tune it away now, let it go until he tries to focus in on it and it snaps back into view. He nods once. “Better.”

“Good.” A small hand pats his back, cool against his warm skin. “Go ahead and put your shirt back on, Jackson.” Lydia steps into view, still making notes on her docbook, fingers tapping lightly against the screen. She glances up when he doesn’t move. “Is there another problem that you’ve failed to mention? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“Are we talking as friends or as patient and doctor?” Jackson snaps. He raises his hand when she blinks those hazel eyes at him and he recognizes the subtle signs of her being upset. Lydia Martin doesn’t _show_ anything to anyone, but Jackson has known her since they were small and he can read behind the wall that she keeps in place. “Sorry. Danny’s doing his best to get himself killed.”

“Ah.” She taps the screen one final time then lays the docbook aside. She faces Jackson, her hands on his knees, moving into his personal space. “I’d heard about that. He’s come up with a plan to neutralize the Kanima once and for all. Our savior, Danny Mahealani.”

He tries to read her expression and fails this time, uncertain what lies behind the dry, light tone. “And your thoughts on this?”

She cocks her head. “I think it has a chance. The plan will strike on multiple fronts, both biologically and technically, and try to disable them so that they are unable to come after us again. Whether this wins us the war, or merely gives us a stay of battle, is anyone’s guess. The Kanima haven’t seemed to be the sort who would simply surrender, even under duress. Using their own poison against them, however, is a brilliant tactic.”

She’s lost him. Because of course Lydia Martin knows more about Danny’s project than Jackson does. She’s probably helped him develop it, while neither of them bothered to tell Jackson until the last minute. He growls slightly, and Lydia pats his chest.

“He’ll give you all the details when you need them. It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from him, after all.”

That’s enough. Jackson nudges her away and slides off the table, grabbing for his t-shirt and flight jacket. “I’m oath bound to keep those secrets. You know that _Dr. Martin_.” He stresses her role, reminding her of the patient/physician confidentiality.

She shrugs. “I don’t necessarily agree with Dr. Deaton’s need for secrecy. Yes, the Alpha Project is highly classified. However, Danny’s security level outstrips either of us. I’m quite sure he wouldn’t say a word, if he were to know the truth. But you do as you see fit. And if you experience any more problems, come to me immediately. We need you to be finely tuned before you attempt this mission.”

“It won’t just be me.” Jackson works the clasps on his jacket, using that to keep his focus rather than looking at her. “I think all three squads will be mustered, but Danny will be riding in my Rabid. Which means I need to get McCall to check her over before I go out. Everyone else will be playing decoy.”

He has an idea in mind that he needs to run past Hale before they go out, but he’s sure his squadron leader will agree. It’s the best way to go, and it’s the safest. Alpha squadron may be strong, but they’re also the smartest. They have the best tactics, and they work together.

Jackson snorts to himself. There’s a reason why the omegas are omegas.

“Cora finally chose a call sign.” Lydia picks up the docbook again, tapping the screen before offering it to Jackson. She doesn’t need to tell him why; he takes it and enters his own authorization code to send a message down to McCall to meet him in the docking bay. “She said _Baby_ was an insult. I reminded her that it was her own fault that she let other people choose what to call her, and she is the youngest Hale flyer.”

“What did she choose?” Jackson types a second message to the rest of Alpha squad to meet him in the planning room, then swipes his hand over the screen, sending the messages and clearing his information.

Lydia smirks. “You’ll have to see her Rabid to find out. She was heading down to christen her when we parted this morning.”

Jackson shakes his head. Cora is… fiery. A perfect match for Lydia, yes, but also definite trouble for the program. There’s a reason she’s only a beta. Not that Lydia should even be sleeping with someone in the program, but neither Lydia nor Cora were the type to pay attention to little things like _rules_.

Near as Jackson could tell, most of the folks in the program were sleeping with each other anyway, except for the siblings. Why not include a doctor in the mix?

There’s a soft buzz before words sound inside his head, as clearly as if spoken by someone standing next to him. “Get your ass down here for your meeting, Jackson.” Derek’s dry tones come through clearly, and Jackson gives Lydia a thumbs up for the new clarity of sound in the subcutaneous comm. He subvocalizes that he’s on his way, and goes.

#

“Jackson!” McCall calls out to him as he crosses the floor of the bay. She has one hand up, motioning him over, and he spreads his hands.

“On my way somewhere, but I’ll be back after. Need to talk to you,” he calls out. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She catches up to him easily enough that Jackson remembers exactly _why_ her son was recommended for the program. Good genes, definitely. Even though her son is an adult, Melissa McCall still looks young and vital, her wild curls tugged back and a streak of grease across her cheek. She gestures with whatever tool it is in her hand. “Don’t make me wait, because I’ve got plans tonight.” She taps him in the chest. “Good plans.”

Jackson doesn’t want to ask. He really doesn’t want to _know_ because he has a feeling it has to involve the pilots somehow (doesn’t it always?) and if McCall is going to start sleeping with the only one her age, that’s her business. If she’s going to do it with one of the ones her son’s age… Jackson shudders and shakes his head. “I need a re-fit on my Rabid,” he says curtly, trying _not_ to imagine what he just thought.

She rubs at her cheek, spreading the grease. “And what are you trying to resurrect this time?”

“Nothing. I need the second seat secured. Reinforced.”

“The RB1D is not a passenger unit,” McCall reminds him. “I’ve told you this before when you _insisted_ on taking your friend out for a joyride. That seat’s an add-on at best, and the cage isn’t made to be reinforced around it. If you happen to run into a Kanima force while you’re out—”

“It’s for a mission,” Jackson growls. “I already know you’ve got the headroom worked out for Danny’s height. Now I need you to build the cage and _make_ it reinforced. You’re the best fucking mechanic on this ship, McCall, so prove it.”

Her expression sets and for a moment she reminds him of nothing more than a _mother_. The kind of mother who actually gives a shit what kids say and is going to scold him for his language. He tilts his head, leveling his best glare at her, and she just stares back at him.

Jackson relents. “Please. If I can’t get Danny in alive, we might as well not even get off the ship.”

“What’s the mission?” She relaxes slowly, but she doesn’t say no, which Jackson knows means she’ll do it.

“Classified,” he returns, but he jerks his head towards the planning room, which translates to _ask your son_ because he’s pretty damned sure Scott doesn’t keep secrets from his mom, classified information or not. “You going to be here when I get out again?”

“Everyone’s asking for something today.” McCall throws her hands up, and Jackson follows the gesture to where Cora is perched on ladder, leaning out to painstakingly paint the word _Bait_ on her Rabid.

_Bait_.

“Seriously, Hale?” he yells out.

“It’s better than _Baby_!” she yells back, and he has to agree with that.

“ _Jackson!_ ”

Jackson raises a hand to say _later_ and heads over to the planning room. He doesn’t rush, despite the glare Derek gives him from the doorway. Derek’s not the one in charge, after all; his sister Laura is. And she’s just sitting in the biggest chair, leaned back, feet on the table and hands folded. “So,” she looks up and grins, mouth bright with teeth. “We’ve got work to do.”

He sits down and outlines the mission while Derek brings up the official assignment posting and puts it on the screen. They go over the details as it stands: Alpha squad will remain pack-close around Jackson while he brings Danny in, while Beta and Omega squads will attack in different directions as a distraction.

“I’ve got a slightly different idea,” Jackson says, and Derek swings the board to him.

Jackson taps into information that Danny’s sent him before, things he’s not supposed to know but he does anyway, because they share information. He puts up an overlay, marking parts of the Kanima base that Danny’s scoped out. “There are three ways in. The way they’d expect us to take, the way they’d be surprised if we take, and the one that’s impossible. We’re not going to distract them with an attack, we’re going to go in.”

“We can’t go in _and_ protect you,” Scott points out.

“True, but we have two other squadrons.” Laura leans forward, elbows on the table. “What do you have in mind?”

“Send Kate in the front door.” Derek scowls as soon as Jackson speaks but Jackson’s going to push this point home. “Derek, she’s called Psycho for a reason. There is _nothing_ that is going to stop her, and she’s the person least likely to be killed on a suicide mission. Even if she can’t regenerate, she thinks fast enough on her feet to get out of a tricky situation, and it’s probable that she’ll blow something up along the way. Can you think of a better distraction?”

Jackson crosses his arms and waits; when Derek growls sullenly, he knows his point is made. “With the rest of Omega squad at her back, she’ll be fine. Allison and Chris have pinpoint accuracy, and Matt’s sneaky. Then we’ve got Beta squad for the second way in.”

He waits for the shoe to drop, knowing they’ll be right there with him momentarily.

“No,” Derek says flatly. “That’s not an option.”

“You’re not her squad leader, and you don’t have a say in what she does. Just because she’s your baby sister—”

“That’s not it.” Laura sits back, blue-eyes icy cold. “Cora’s not ready for that kind of a mission.”

“Because she’s young? Or because she’s got a crap temper that gets her in trouble?” Jackson shrugs. “She’s one step away from being one of us. _All_ of the betas are good, they just aren’t as good as _we_ are. Cora’s young, cocky, and thinks she’s immortal. She’s gone to the trouble of calling herself _Bait_ now; why shouldn’t we use it? She’s asking to be put on the front line.”

“And that’s exactly why we shouldn’t.” Derek’s tone is firm. “End of discussion.”

“Jackson has a point.” Scott doesn’t speak often, but when he does, everyone listens, and Jackson is thankful for the intervention. “Look at it,” Scott continues. “Isaac’s a great leader, but you don’t send the leader down the rabbit hole. He needs to be outside, giving orders and protecting her back. Besides, he doesn’t like small spaces. Other than Rabids,” he allows, because their ships are cramped and tight. “You can’t send in Erica without Boyd or vice versa; they’d follow each other to hell and back. Which makes them great on partner missions, since I’m pretty sure they can read each other’s minds. But in a case like this? If there’s even a hint of trouble, Boyd would break rank to get to her, and she’d burn the ship down to get to him. That means it has to be Cora. Besides. She’s the best flyer on Beta squad, which means she’s also the one most capable of getting in through that route.” He points to the screen. “ _Look at it_. Do you think there are many people who _aren’t_ one of us who could do it?”

“If it’s that bad, what’s the impossible one like?” Laura asks, and just like that, the discussion’s done. The alpha of Alpha squad has spoken.

Jackson laughs tightly. “Impossible.” He points to a corridor on the overlay, little more than a twisting tube. “It’s narrow, it’s not a straight shot, and it’s going to be nearly impossible to get a Rabid down it. But it also brings us in to the best place to get Danny access to their systems in order to release the toxins. If we want to focus on that part of the mission, this is the way to do it. But I won’t be able to even attempt it if they have any idea what we’re trying to do.”

“Which means you don’t want us to fly with you,” Scott says quietly.

“It means I want you to cover my ass, since it’s the one on the line, but I don’t want you pointing the way to where I’ve gone.” Jackson’s jaw sets, tight and stiff. “It’s a suicide mission. And if my Rabid comes back out of there drifting, _go get Danny out of it_.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Derek claps Jackson on the back, and a moment later the other alphas are there as well, crowding in close. Jackson inhales and can catch the scent of them, soft and low, like a sound just below his hearing. Scott squeezes his shoulder and Laura pulls him in, burying her face against his throat.

Jackson’s thankful for the door as they stand there, crowded as close as bodies can get, because he needs this and there is no way they could explain it to anyone else. Alpha squad isn’t just a squad, they’re pack. They’re family, and they’re linked. His arms go around Scott and Derek and he holds on tight, because these people are the ones that are going to get him through this, and the ones who are going to help him keep Danny safe.

Laura’s voice is rough when she speaks. “I’ll present it to the captain, and let you know when we’ve got the go,” she says. “One way or another, it’s going to be all over soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, Gecko.”

Jackson is sitting in his Rabid, checking the systems, when Cora climbs up and slides in behind him, wedging her smaller body into the seat meant for Danny. “Hey, Bait.” He smirks at her. “Nice call sign.”

“Still say it’s better than _Baby_.” She swats him across the back of the head, not hard enough to hurt. Not even as hard as Laura does it during any training session. She follows the motion, leaning over his shoulder, cheek pressed against his neck. “And thanks for sticking up for me. I’m guessing Derek was pretty pissy. Isaac said that Scott said that this plan is all you, though, and that you argued my sibs into submission.”

Jackson twists in his seat, arm ending up in the space between them. Cora curls her fingers over his skin, and he snorts softly. “Lydia would kill me,” he points out, and her fingers slip away. He is serious, though, when he tells her, “I will do anything it takes to make sure Danny gets in and out of that space safely. If it means taking your call sign at face value, then I’ll do it. You and Kate are my cover, kid. I’m depending on a kid just out of flight school, and the craziest person out of all our squads.”

“Matt’s not exactly sane, either,” Cora points out with a grin. Jackson makes a face, because the Omegas in general have a loose hold on reality as far as he’s concerned. Side effect of the program, perhaps.

“Hey! Is someone in my seat?”

“And that would be my cue to leave.” Cora leans forward, framing Jackson’s face with her hands. Her mouth over his is almost a surprise, lips firm before she pulls away. “Don’t get yourself hurt on this,” she orders. “Lydia would be _impossible_ to live with if she didn’t have you to keep her humble.”

She scrambles over the edge and pushes off, leaping down to the floor and landing in a crouch. As she comes back to standing, she pats Danny on the shoulder. “Careful up there, Mahealani. If you don’t wedge yourself in just right, you might end up kicking Jackson in the ass the entire time. Not that he wouldn’t deserve it.” She has one last teasing smile for Jackson, then gives Danny another pat for good measure, and walks off.

Danny pulls himself up easily; he might be a tech, but he lifts with Jackson and does his best to stay in shape. Jackson has to take it easy when working with Danny, not showing exactly how good the program is for him, but he has to give Danny credit for how hard he pushes himself. He can see the way his shirt stretches across his chest, showing off the muscles he’s worked for. Once he’s climbed up, Danny twists over the edge and drops into position behind Jackson’s seat, folding his long legs uncomfortably.

“This is not going to be my favorite part of this.” Danny makes a face.

“What _is_ going to be your favorite part?” Because Jackson can’t think any of this is fun for Danny. It’s a potential suicide mission, and while Jackson signed up for this side of things, Danny never did. Danny’s supposed to stay safe on board the main ship; Jackson likes knowing he’s safe.

Danny flashes a smile, dimples showing. “Winning. This is going to be the change of everything going forward.” He leans on the seat between them, head close to Jackson and his voice low. “Lydia caught me and had a long psychological conversation with me before she’d let me go. She asked if I felt guilty for this, for what we’re going to do.”

“What _are_ we going to do, exactly?” Because in this case, Jackson’s the flight monkey—he has no idea what payload Danny’s actually carrying.

“Up there.” Danny points to the ceiling of the hangar above them. “This isn’t the place to talk about it, not to mention that I’m waiting for your clearance to come in.”

Jackson lifts his lip, curling into an automatic snarl because _clearance_ shouldn’t come between him and his best friend. When Danny’s eyes widen at the soft sound Jackson makes, he backs down, because _damn it_ , security _always_ comes between them. It has since Jackson joined the program, and that’s one of the most frustrating parts of being a member of Alpha squadron. He presses his lips thinly. “Fine. But I want a full explanation. If things are going to start exploding around us when you plant something to shut the base down, I need to know everything I can to get us out safely.”

“Nothing’s going to explode. I think.”

“Good.” Melissa McCall pokes her head over the edge of the Rabid, bringing the scent of grease and oil with her. “Because if something explodes, you’re both dead. I’ve had to redesign the ejection pod in order to get you both in here with some form of safety, and while you’ve got structural integrity, and can bounce around like a ping pong ball without your wings, you can’t actually eject if you’re on fire. There’s nothing left to curl around you; it’s a system designed for a single pilot. Jackson, you’ve essentially cannibalized your RB1D here, and I’m not responsible—”

“You’re completely responsible,” he interrupts her, tone easy and calm. “That’s why you’re the only one I trust to do this. Not to mention that your son’s my wing man on this mission so you want me safe to get in and out. You’re the only one who can pull this off, McCall.”

Danny flashes his dimples at her. “Thanks, Melissa. I appreciate the work you’ve done to retrofit Jackson’s Rabid.”

“RB1D,” she corrects him, although she’s smiling. Everyone smiles at Danny; they can’t help it. “And I can’t give you any guarantee of safety.”

Danny’s expression goes sober. “No one can. I’m going in with the best, but I’m well aware that there’s a chance we won’t come out again. But I figure if anyone’s going to think my ass is worth saving, it’s Jackson.”

“You’ll come back out.” Jackson doesn’t look at Danny as he says it, but he can read Melissa’s expression, see the way she notices that Jackson didn’t include himself in that equation. If it means sacrificing himself, he would, for Danny.

“Let me get you strapped in properly.” Melissa pulls herself over the edge and drops into the Rabid, her back against Jackson’s seat as she straddles Danny. “There’s nothing stock about this, and you both need to pay attention because I’m figuring whatever your plan is, it’s going to involve climbing out of this beast once you’re on the inside.” She holds up a finger and shakes her head. “I don’t want to know, so don’t worry. Just pay attention so you can see how this mess goes together, otherwise Danny’ll get thrown around when you,” she points to Jackson, “start showing off. Scott idolizes the way you maneuver. Give him a few pointers when this is over. He’s got the strategy, but he wants the flash.”

“I’m all flash,” Jackson says easily, because in the end, he guesses that’s true.

The harness system is complicated, but once it’s in place, Danny can’t even squirm. She’s also fixed Jackson’s harness, adding extra restraints and he knows that when he starts to roll the Rabid, neither of them are going to move.

It’ll help on impact, too. Not that Jackson plans on crashing, but there might be some bouncing once they hit the narrow entrance. He gives her a look, but her smile is mild, playing as if she doesn’t know anything.

There’s an advantage to the way information travels between squad and family sometimes. Jackson has no issues with it when it might be the thing to save his life.

Jackson hands Danny his helmet once they’re settled, and pulls his own on. He makes sure Danny’s set with the hoses first, partly because Danny can’t breathe out there and Jackson… well, he can’t, but at the same time, he wouldn’t be completely helpless if his flight suit failed, and partly because it’s just the right thing to do.

If Jackson’s touch lingers slightly on Danny’s face when he gets him hooked up, or his shoulder, it’s just worry about his best friend.

He touches the hidden button and sees the light flash in Danny’s helmet. A moment later Danny’s voice comes back, tinny and remote.

“We’re ace,” Danny says.

Jackson gives him a thumbs up, and settles into his seat. Melissa retreats as the cockpit door closes, locking them inside. In the hangar, Jackson can see the other Rabids lining up to go, a neat dozen as all three squads are ready.

This is it.

He punches the Rabid to life and feels the engine shudder and whine as it starts, then the comforting rumble. They wait for the deck to clear, then each one takes their space in the chute.

Moments later, they are in space, settling into formation.

“We’re on,” Danny murmurs, and Jackson nods.

They are most definitely _on_.

#

“Alpha Squad, report.” Laura’s voice comes in clearly over the comm. Jackson can hear Danny shifting slightly in his seat behind him, and is suddenly aware of just how much of this Danny will be hearing. “Keep formation tight, Beta to the right and Omega to the left. We’ll be keeping full formation until we enter Kanima airspace.”

“Scotty here on your right, AlphaOne.” Scott’s voice is quick and calm.

“Sourwolf in position on your left,” Derek says.

“Gecko taking the rear.” There’s a soft snort as Jackson speaks, and he can’t get distracted by Danny’s sense of humor right now. He _can’t_. But at the same time, it’s still something of a relief to hear the low laugh from Laura in response.

“Calm your cargo, Gecko,” she retorts, quietly. “I need you focused.”

“I’m focused.” Jackson breathes in and out slowly as he glances out. The Rabids all look alike, sleek and dark against the blackness of space beyond, except for the brightly painted tails on each. He has no idea where the symbol Scott uses came from; it looks like a target more than anything else. Derek’s got the wolf, and Laura has her stylized Greek alpha. The Betas and Omegas have similar art on their Rabids, with Cora’s carefully scripted _Bait_ still bright and unblemished for the first time out.

It’s a relief to be flying again. This is where Jackson fits in best, where he feels at home. He can feel the sensation deep in his bones, as good as the aftermath of sex. He lets himself sink into relaxation, the harness holding him in place in the lack of gravity. He has always liked weightlessness, and right now, he’s thankful Danny doesn’t get sick.

“Doing okay back there, Moonlight?” Jackson asks.

“Moonlight?” He hears Cora’s laugh over the comm.

“He’s with me, he needs a call sign,” Jackson tells her. He’s had it planned since he first took Danny up for a ride, and if Danny looks later, he’ll see the script on his helmet. It didn’t take much thought to come up with the idea; it’s pretty much what his name translates to.

He’s glad Danny never asked where Gecko came from, because that’s not nearly as easy to explain.

Over the line, there’s low chatter as first Beta checks in, then Omega. Jackson checks them off in his mind, placing them in formation in his mind so he doesn’t have to look past his instrumentation. Isaac flies point as BetaOne, with Erica (Angel) on his right, and Boyd (Brick) on his left. Chris Argent is OmegaOne with his daughter Allison (Silver) and Matt (Snake) flying to his sides. Both Cora and Kate fly rear guard, ready to peel off when necessary.

Fuck, Jackson hopes this works. He might not _like_ Kate Argent, but he doesn’t want to see Chris if he loses his sister, and Lydia will _kill_ him if anything happens to Cora.

This is why you don’t sleep with your squad mates. And why you don’t fly with family.

Because of course, the Alpha project breaks all the normal rules.

“Fly silent until my signal,” Laura orders curtly. Jackson pings his assent, then shuts down the comm except for the private line between himself and Danny. He can hear something in the back, the tap of suited fingers over a keyboard, before Danny speaks.

“We’re definitely private now.”

Jackson exhales, knowing that Danny has added his own layer of security to their patch. “So. You going to tell me exactly what our payload is?”

“If I say a virus, are you going to laugh?” Danny asks. “Except it’s not that simple. Other than the part where it is.”

“You lost me.” Jackson doesn’t really _need_ to know what they’re doing, but at the same time, it isn’t something that can be done from a distance and if it requires proximity, he’d like to know what he’s carrying in. “Are we blowing anything up?”

There’s silence from the back except for the tap of Danny’s fingers.

Jackson thinks he might know what the problem is. “This is war,” he says quietly. “They’ve been trying to kill humans since before we were born. We’ve tried making peace; we’ve tried a million solutions. If you’ve got something that lets us take out even one of their bases, it’s a huge leg up in this war.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be a killer.” Danny’s voice is soft and low. “The thing is, the fact that they rely on technology is perfect for me. They have a stronger reliance on modification and integration with technology than we do, and it means that slipping them a broken cocktail to destroy them from the inside out is easy. _If_ we can get to the inside.”

“Are we talking computer virus or biological virus?” Jackson asks, fingers tight on the controls.

“Both.” Danny inhales roughly. “We’re talking about taking them apart on all fronts. Changing them, and changing their equipment. Destabilizing it, so that they need to figure out how to come back from it.”

“Which means someone will step in and offer to help them figure that out.” Jackson knows how the fleet works. They don’t go looking for people to subjugate. In fact, the fleet came about solely in response to attack perpetrated on them first. But just because they hunt those who hunt them doesn’t mean they won’t twist their enemies under their thumbs, then offer to _fix_ the things they broke.

The human race is a twisted species. Jackson doesn’t know what it makes himself, being not quite human anymore.

“So, how’s it work?”

Danny explains, and Jackson lets the words wash over him. He can hear a lightness come back into Danny’s tone, a joy in what he does. Danny has always loved the theory, but he has never wanted to hurt anyone with it. Jackson figures it doesn’t matter whether he understands a word Danny says; just the process of saying it is confession. A burden shared. And Jackson will do that for Danny. He can’t let his best friend carry this on his own.

“It’s not genocide,” Jackson says at the end, because he’s pretty sure he at least understood a part of it. “More like… declawing a pet.”

Danny snorts. “If the pet is a six foot tall homicidal lizard, then yeah. It’ll make their tech non-violent. They won’t be able to operate their own weaponized bodies.”

It occurs to Jackson that he _really_ hopes that the invasive elements are specific to Kanima biology, because otherwise he could be in deep shit if he gets hit. But he’s not going to tell Danny that. He’s carrying enough of a load already.

“Getting it into a central location is the most important part,” Danny explains. “We need to inject the airborne contaminant directly into their system, and we will be changing their programming so that their air cleaners replicate the virus rather than cleaning it out. Plus we’ll be adding code to the security programs for the base. Changing the way things operate.”

Jackson hears the sub-sonic click that heralds the return of the comm. He snaps his attention back to the controls, hands loose and ready.

“Bogeys coming in,” Laura snaps. “Don’t fight unless we have to. Beta, Omega, peel off, take your own approach. Focus, tune to squad only. Moonlight, maintain silence.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Danny says quickly, and there’s another low click as his comm shuts down.

No matter what Jackson says, Danny won’t hear him now. He simply raises one hand, lifting one thumb. From behind, he feels Danny’s hand close over his, squeezing lightly.

This will work out. It has to.

#

The Kanima don’t give them long before the firefight starts.

Jackson wants to know what the other two squadrons are doing—he has Cora on his mind because of Lydia—but he doesn’t have that luxury. And training snaps into place, focus sliding in like a veil over his hearing and sight. He tunes in to the tiny sounds, the little clicks and hisses over the comm, the soft subvocalizations. He could use his implant, and he will later if he’s out of the Rabid, but right now the comm works better over this distance.

“Sourwolf, up, bogey on your tail,” Laura snaps.

“Twist and roll,” Jackson replies. “I’ll take it.” He does a quick turn and it brings the Kanima into his sights and he squeezes the trigger.

“Scotty!”

“Hang on.”

“Gecko.”

“Curling in. Got it.”

They don’t need direction, not more than a word or two. Alpha squadron works almost as if they were telepathically linked, hypersensitive and swift, working in concert. Laura snaps an order and they don’t have to ask, they know what she means, and they execute. It’s why they’re the alphas. 

“Go in.” Laura’s order is curt and sharp, and Jackson sees the way Derek and Scott close ranks behind her, forcing him to squeeze out of formation. A part of him wants to say _not yet_ because they need him, but it _is_ time. It’s time to get out of the firefight, to stop feeling the small vibrations every time Danny jumps a little behind him at the death of another Kanima pilot.

It’s time to try not to die.

Jackson inhales and he lets it all go. Lets _everything_ go. He can’t think about Danny anymore, or his squadron. He can’t worry about Cora getting sucked into the rabbit hole, or Kate blowing something up at the wrong moment. All he can see is that tiny, narrow entrance, barely wide enough for his Rabid.

His fingers are light on the controls as he slides over them, touching the right sequence to pull his wings in just a bit, going into coast mode. He cuts half the power to the engine and glides.

This is the tricky part. There’s no air in space, not like back home where Jackson grew up, flying tiny ultralights over farmland. He can’t rely on currents; he has to make his own. But he doesn’t want any excess energy, either.

He tunes his flight with tiny nudges of power against vacuum, twisting in place and pulling into a tight spiral.

He hears the clicks of the comm coming online just as they enter the chute.

“Did you just hack the comm links,” he says quietly.

“Mm-hm. Don’t like it being this silent in here.”

“Sound doesn’t travel in a vacuum. Space is quiet.” It’s one of the things Jackson actually likes about it. That quiet vast sense of it all. “Can’t talk.”

“It’s okay. Mind if I do?”

Jackson lifts one hand in silent assent. He can’t manage words right now. His mind is geared for patterns and turns, the way a tiny thrust tilts the Rabid just so, then he tumbles into a spin to make a turn. They are slowing down on purpose, drifting through the chute as Jackson navigates with just enough speed to keep moving forward.

He has no idea what Danny is saying, but the sound of the voice is a comfort. Low, smooth, even. Calm. For all Jackson knows, Danny could be reciting computer code. It’s the sound that helps, not the words. He can’t think about the words.

The passage is narrower than he expected, and it doesn’t take long before Jackson realizes he’s being followed.

This isn’t good.

Analysis takes over before anything else. It thinks it’ll sneak up on him, but it can’t. Now that they’re inside, there’s something more than vacuum. There’s resistance, there’s air. There’s _sound_. He can hear the small changes in pressure and thrust that means it’s coming closer. He can hear the whine of weapons locking.

It’s almost too much for his mind, and he tries to compartmentalize it. Jackson tries to make himself fly on instinct so he can shift his attention to the enemy, but this isn’t something he can fly without thinking. It’s too complicated, too small, too narrow.

There’s a wall.

There’s a _wall_.

He barely registers Danny’s shout; he’s too busy pulling on the controls, trying to twist himself around in a corridor that doesn’t leave room for it. He hears the change in the electronic whine and he knows this is what they were waiting for. This is why they hadn’t fired yet. Why bother when the architecture would do it for them?

He’s not sure what he does, just that the impact shakes his body as one of the wings rips off of the Rabid. It gives him just enough room to maneuver, twisting himself around so that he faces the enemy and can target it, shooting back.

“Close your eyes!”

In space it doesn’t matter. Here, the explosion could be blinding, and Jackson closes his own eyes tightly, one arm thrown across them as he feels the heat batter at the small Rabid, throwing it back against the wall hard.

When they come to a stop, Jackson feels as if his brain has been shaken loose. Smoke curls around them, and he knows they have to get out soon. He touches controls, checking the atmosphere outside of the Rabid. The Kanima don’t need quite as much oxygen as humans, which will be fine for Jackson but not for Danny. Still, it’s pressurized, and while it’ll make him light-headed, it shouldn’t be so bad that Danny will pass out.

“Danny, we need to unstrap and get out and walk to where we’re going.” Jackson touches the comm on his helmet, makes sure it’s on. “Danny. Danny!”

_Fuck_.

Jackson yanks his harness loose, not caring that he’s ripping through the seams. This Rabid is never going anywhere again, that’s not what this is about anymore. He manages to get free and surges up, cracking his head on the ceiling. He swears under his breath, partly from the pain and partly because of what he finds in the back.

Danny hangs limply in the harness, his head tilted to one side, blood across his forehead under the helmet. One arm is twisted, and his skin is deadly pale.

When Jackson whispers Danny’s name, there is no response, and Jackson swears he feels his heart stop. He’s supposed to make sure Danny gets out alive, and instead he might have killed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Jackson can hear Lydia’s voice in the back of his mind, curtly ordering him _not to move the patient_. But Jackson can’t listen to it, can’t listen to _her_ , not now, not when he’s afraid the Rabid might actually catch fire. He pauses long enough to test the air quality one more time, assuring himself that after the fire from the enemy ship burned out from lack of oxygen, air flooded back into the corridor and they’ll be able to breathe. It must be pressurized for a reason, which is good for breathing, but bad because it means they are more likely to get Kanima coming through.

He really doesn’t want to meet up with any Kanima right now.

Then he methodically snaps the harness straps that should be able to stand up to things much stronger than himself and leverages Danny out of the seat. He pushes open the hatch and lifts Danny out, jumping to the ground and doing his best to cradle Danny on the way down.

The groan he gets in response is heartening because it means Danny is alive, but worrisome since it means he hurt him. “Sorry,” he murmurs. Jackson closes his eyes, getting his bearing for where they are in the ship, with this wall that shouldn’t be here, and tries to think how they can get past it.

Chances are, it isn’t just a _wall_. And they’re _close_. He knows it isn’t far, but he’s torn between getting Danny out and safe, and finishing the mission.

Danny would want to finish the mission.

Fuck.

“Look, I need you to just sit here for a minute.” Jackson settles Danny carefully in the corridor, propping him upright against the wall. “Just… give me a minute.”

Jackson climbs back into the Rabid and goes over the controls, trying to remember the failsafe McCall showed him once. He had filed it in the mental space of _don’t actually do this unless it’s critical_ and forgot it until now. He sets off the emergency protocol which takes the Rabid out of operation, letting it scrub its own system, and flush everything so that there is no way it can be a danger and explode.

It’ll also never fly again.

He touches the controls with light fingertips. “Sorry,” he apologizes to the Rabid, because she’s been good to him. “End of the road. Might be for all of us.” He hopes it’s not, but right now, the only way in is through, so he has to keep going.

By the time Jackson jumps back down, Danny is sitting forward, one arm hanging and twisted, the other leaning on his knee, head cradled in his hand. “This place is spinning,” Danny says. “Did you bring my equipment?”

“It’s your head that’s spinning, and yes, I’ve got it.” Jackson holds up the bag that Danny brought with him. “You took a hard knock. I think your arm’s not quite right.” Which is putting it mildly, and the wry look Danny gives him says that he knows it. “Where we’re going isn’t far past this wall. I can carry you.” He crouches next to Danny, hands careful as he tries to help Danny sit more comfortably.

“We’re not going back,” Danny says.

“I didn’t think we were. You told me to get you in, and that’s what’s going to happen.” Jackson lets his hand slide down Danny’s arm, feeling the places where the damage is. “You need to tell me where it hurts.”

“Everything.” Danny flashes a pale smile, dimples deep. “The arm, obviously. My head. My chest. It’s like breathing knives.”

“Stay still.” Jackson leans in, pressing his ear against Danny’s chest, listening for the low wheeze and whistle of his breath in his chest. He hears the small hitch, feels the way he flinches when his thumbs skate over certain spots. Broken ribs. Probably worse.

He hears Lydia’s voice in his head again. _Do not move him, you idiot._

“I can call the squad.” He speaks slowly, not at all surprised when Danny shakes his head, wincing with the motion.

“I knew what I was getting into. So stop being an idiot and help me up.” Danny reaches out so that Jackson can wedge himself underneath his arm, lifting to get Danny up and stumbling forward. Danny sucks in a breath, lets it out slowly. “We can do this. We’re not going back now. If I have to, I’ll tell you how to take care of it yourself.”

“Not going to happen. You’re going to get there, and you’re going to get out.”

They both know Jackson is lying, but he’s going to say it. And he’ll keep saying it, because he refuses to think of the other option.

The truth.

Because they know they’re not getting out. Not now.

#

When Jackson finds the control panel, he’s impressed with how quickly Danny is able to figure out how it works and get the door open. “Hurt, not dead,” Danny says. “And I still speak Kanima.”

“Why did you learn a lizard language?” Jackson gets that it’s helpful right now, but it still surprises him. It’s a completely alien thing, both the language itself and the idea of trying to figure out how it works.

“My best friend calls himself Gecko.” Danny grins, nudging Jackson with one elbow. “Besides, it’s no different from learning to talk to computers. Just… a different vocabulary. They’re logical. It reminds me of programming. Weirdly comforting.”

Danny’s lips are almost as pale as the rest of him, and that bothers Jackson. He keeps trying to listen, but he hates the way his breathing sounds. If he listens, he can’t focus on the mission. All he can see is Danny starting to fall apart in front of him, and that’s too much.

“Jackson.” Danny sounds tired. “It’s not far. Get us there.”

“What if I said no?”

“You promised.” Danny pushes away from him, stands on shaky feet. “And if you’re not coming with me, then I’ll go on alone.”

“No.” Jackson can’t let him do that. “You won’t get anywhere without me, idiot.”

“Asshole.” Danny leans into him as Jackson puts an arm around him, propping him up again. “But you’re my asshole.” He pats Jackson’s chest, stumbling again as they start moving.

“Don’t get maudlin.”

“If I can’t get maudlin when I’m dying, when else would I?”

Jackson almost stops. As it is, he grumbles loudly, his hackles rising. “You’re _not_ dying. _We_ are not dying. So get that idea out of your head, Danny, because we’ll be finding a way out. It just won’t be by my Rabid.”

Danny stays silent, and Jackson lets it go. They need their energy to keep Danny moving forward, and if Jackson is more carrying him than letting him walk on his own, no one needs to talk about it.

The place Danny picked is empty when they find it, the first big break in this entire mission. He feels the exhalation, the way Danny relaxes and slumps into the awkward thing that Jackson supposes is a chair built for a six foot tall lizard. There are straps, and Jackson grabs them, helping brace Danny in, because it’ll give them both a chance to rest.

Danny’s hands are awkward as he gets out his equipment, and Jackson silently follows direction, helping him get it set up. There is a thin tube and a long slender needle that Jackson needs to inject into one of the tubes hanging nearby.

“We’re at the nerve center,” Danny says. “Not usually manned. Lizarded.” His smile is weak at the joke. “But everything comes to this point, and everything fans out from this point. You name a system for the ship, and there is an access port here.”

“You just work and tell me what you need done that you can’t reach from there. I’ll be your hands.”

And he does. Danny is good at giving directions, and Jackson’s good at taking them. Between them, Danny is certain they can get the toxins launched and the reprogramming set.

But as Jackson watches him work, he sees the pain, hears the soft hisses of frustration. He can hear the low thud, the soft wheezing. He can see how pale Danny is, and smell the scent of pain.

The problem is, Danny’s right. He’s dying. If Jackson can’t figure out a way to get him out of there, he’ll be dead soon enough.

He rubs at the chip under the back corner of his jaw, pushes at it irritatedly. It’s sending out a beacon—it _has_ been sending out a beacon for more than an hour now—but he hasn’t gotten a reply. Someone in Alpha squad should have talked to him by now.

Unless the signal can’t get to him.

Unless they’re all dead already.

“Sit down, the pacing is irritating me.”

Jackson stops, flexing his fingers, and scowls at Danny. “I can’t just sit.”

Danny looks at him. “Sit down, flyboy. This part’s mine to do. You keep that energy so you can rescue me when it’s done.”

“Just like the princess you are,” Jackson says dryly.

“Don’t you know it.” Danny points to the floor. “Sit.”

So Jackson sits. And waits. And tries his damnedest not to worry.

#

Danny’s fingers come to rest on the keyboard, and he draws in a deep breath that shudders through him before he lets it out slowly. “I think that’ll do it. We won’t know until we can observe from the outside, but if everything goes as planned, they’ll infect the others when they travel from base to base.” He smiles thinly. “They’ll be carriers. It should spread before they know what’s happening, both the code and the biological contaminant.”

Every time Danny talks about this, it makes Jackson wonder exactly what part of the Kanima it affects, and how the members of the Alpha project will be affected as well. If it could invade _his_ reprogramming. He wonders if it could change Jackson, more than he has already been changed.

“So we’re done,” he says slowly, watching Danny, trying to decide just how much longer he has.

“We’re done.” Danny tilts his head back. “Jackson, _I’m_ done. I’m not like you.”

Jackson feels his mouth quirk up in a familiar smirk. “No one’s like me.”

There’s a soft laugh, the sound wetter than it should be. “That’s not what I mean. I _know_ , you know. Not officially, but I’ve got eyes, Jackson. I know you’re not like you used to be.”

“I’m better,” Jackson says quickly, the words covering his surprise at what Danny says. “What, exactly, do you think you know?”

“I’ve seen a few things about the Alpha project.” Danny’s words are quiet. “There are rumors that the fleet is creating their own breed of soldiers. Stronger. If you were still human, you would’ve been as hurt as I was by that landing. Instead you just walked away, and it doesn’t even look like you’re bruised now.”

Danny’s right, of course. The bruises that Jackson had after being bounced around are long healed. He crouches down next to Danny, considering for a long moment before he breaches the space between them, cradling Danny’s head. “I don’t even know what I am anymore,” he admits. “But it gets the job done. It doesn’t make me not _human_ , though. I’m still human, you’re still my best friend, and I’m still going to rescue your ass.”

“I’ll forgive you if you can’t.”

It’s not the words, but the way Danny says it, soft and resigned. Jackson twists and sits, leaning up against Danny, putting an arm around him to help hold him up so that Danny can go lax and use less energy to remain upright. “I wouldn’t forgive myself,” Jackson admits. “I’m getting you out of here. If only one of us makes it out, it’s going to be you. If I could give _this_ ,” he gestures at his body, “to you, I would. But I can’t just make it all jump from me to you, even if it could probably regenerate some of the damage.” Jackson’s jaw is tense, biting down hard, not wanting to say the words. “You have so much fucking damage.”

“And I always thought that was you.” Danny laughs, ending in a pained cough. “You just keep yours on the inside, that’s all. Mine’s on my skin. Although I’m guessing some of it’s hidden right now. It hurts to breathe.”

“You’re bleeding.” Jackson uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away the droplet from the corner of Danny’s mouth. He lets himself listen again, not wanting to hear the way the gurgling sound is louder now. More prevalent. “Something’s wrong with your lung.”

“Just like that, you’re a medic?” Danny quirks an eyebrow, dimples creasing at the corner of his mouth.

“Lydia tuned my hearing before we left.” Jackson rubs at one ear reflexively. “I was getting overload and some things were drowning out the details. But I can hear it when you breathe. Your heart’s good, though.”

“Better be, after everything they went through to fix it when we were kids.” Danny gives him a rueful smile. “I applied to the Alpha project. They didn’t take me because of the damage to my heart, and to my ribs. They said I wasn’t a good candidate because of my pre-existing condition.”

“They didn’t take you because you have a good soul.” Jackson firmly believes it, too. Out of everyone on the three squads, he can’t name a single one that is _nice_. Scott’s the closest they get, but he’s more than willing to put someone’s life on the line in order to get an end result, which is why Jackson knew he could count on Scott’s backup to the idea of sending Cora in as bait. Scott’s good, but he’s no angel.

Jackson figures that Danny’s about as close to an angel as humans can get.

Danny’s fingers thread with Jackson’s, winding their hands together. It isn’t a strong grip, but he’s still holding on. “Do you want to talk about it?” Danny asks.

It’s the first time anyone has brought it up. Jackson talks to Lydia about the medical side of things—what works, what doesn’t, the effect the early treatments had on his sleep schedule. He only occasionally brings up the distance it has created in Jackson’s mind between himself and Danny.

The rest. The rest stays between himself and himself, and occasionally is mentioned to his squadmates.

They all have their troubles. They’ve all done things in the line of duty that are hard to resolve in their own minds. And none of them talk about it.

Jackson tilts his head back against the wall. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Besides, I don’t want to bore you with a recitation of my faults and sins. You’re supposed to be under the impression that I hung the moon, remember?”

“Arrogant asshole.” Danny squeezes his hand. He goes silent for a long time, and Jackson sinks down to listen to the sound of his breathing, just to reassure himself that his heart is still beating strong enough, that the breath still rasps in and out.

“I need to tell you something,” Danny finally says quietly. “And you need to listen and not be an ass and think you need to push me away.”

“You are _not_ dying,” Jackson growls. There is a finality in Danny’s tone, an acceptance of the inevitable, and Jackson can’t go there.

Danny ignores his words. “You’ve been my best friend since we were kids,” he says quietly, pausing to cough wetly. “You and me and Lydia. You’ve known me… you’ve known all about me. We never hid anything from each other, and you let me see just how fucked up you really are.”

“Thanks,” Jackson says dryly, even if it’s true.

“Shut up.” Danny squeezes his hand. “So you need to know… or I need to tell you… that I trust you. Not to save me—I don’t think that’s possible. But I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever known. Except I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

Jackson isn’t sure he wants to hear what’s coming. “Danny—”

“ _Shut up_.” His voice is strong for just a moment, before going quiet again. “I fell in love with you when we were fifteen. And I made myself stop, because you weren’t interested, and that’s fine. But I didn’t want you being uncomfortable, even if you flirted unmercifully, and you teased me. I knew you were joking. And that’s _fine_ , Jackson. You were there for every damned idiotic choice I made in guys, and you picked up the pieces and helped me keep going. You’re better than every single one of them. But I have a thing for assholes, because my best friend is an asshole. He’s just a goodhearted one.”

Maybe it should surprise Jackson, but it doesn’t. He can’t think right now what it means for their friendship in the future because he has to make sure they _have_ a future. “Don’t think this is some kind of death bed confession,” he mutters, growling softly beneath his breath. “You’re going to have to deal with the fact that you told me this. I’m going to have to deal with it. Because we are _getting out of here_.” He has no idea how, just that it’s going to happen. That it has to happen.

“You don’t have to feel anything back.” Danny huffs a sigh, and his breathing shifts. Changes, and he slumps on Jackson’s shoulder, unconscious.

 _Fuck_.

“Gecko.” The sound crackles just beneath his ear, vibrating against his jawbone. “Gecko, this is AlphaOne. Respond.”

They have communication. “Fuck. Yes.” Jackson pitches his voice for the monitor to pick up. “We’re in, done, and damaged. Moonlight’s fading fast.”

“Then we’ll need to get someone in there before the sun comes up. Hold tight, Gecko. We’re coming to get you.”

Jackson’s not sure he can trust them with this, but that thin scent of hope is better than none.


	4. Chapter 4

“What’s your status, Gecko?” Derek’s voice is pure business, and Jackson can hear the tinny echo that tells him their communication is encrypted.

“You’re not clear,” he responds, because that has to mean they’re also still in the middle of a firefight.

“Doesn’t matter; we’re coming in anyway, but we need you to get to a meeting point.”

Jackson does his best to take stock without doing more damage. “So you’re being shot at, Danny’s half-dead, and I’m about to be a pack mule. Great. Who are you sending in?”

“Half-dead?”

It’s impossible to miss the way Derek skips the question, which means either whoever it is has a very slim shot of getting close enough, or someone still might be listening on the line. Last they knew, the Kanima couldn’t speak their language, but then again, Danny learned to speak Kanima, so who knows what they’ve learned in return.

Jackson has a feeling he’s missed a lot while he’s been busy trying to take the base out from the inside.

He sucks a breath in and tries to focus on the mission. “Broken arm, bad bump on the head, cracked or broken ribs, probable internal injuries. His lungs don’t sound right. He’s currently unconscious.”

“You?”

Jackson laughs, the sound dark and dry. “Perfect, of course. What else would you expect?”

“From you, nothing less.” There’s the sound of movement and Derek goes silent for a long moment, and Jackson would wonder if the line has been cut if he didn’t still hear that low hum of the encryption routing. He sinks into the sound and catalogs what he can still hear: the sound of skin against metal as Derek’s hands slide over his controls, and the soft swear under his breath, so soft it wasn’t meant to be heard. Still connected. Jackson clings to that small hope like a lifeline.

“Gecko, this is OmegaOne.”

The line clears abruptly, the soft hiss of Derek’s background noise gone. Jackson growls at the shift, angry at being separated from his squad. “Is there a reason why you’re taking over from Alpha communications?” he snarls.

“Give your squad a chance to maneuver; we’re covering their backs,” Chris replies curtly, his tone all business. “I’ve got a map and a plan. You need to shut up and listen to me and forget about squad politics. Understood?”

“Pyscho?” There are an abundance of questions in the one word.

“Alive.” Jackson can hear the way Chris’s jaw tightens around the word, and the heavy swallow in a tight throat that follows it. Chris smiles around the words. “She’s anxious to go back in, and she’s got a job to do.”

“I really hope you’re using her to the full extent of her abilities and that it’s nowhere near my current position,” Jackson replies.

“Check and check.”

Good to know that things will be exploding soon. Kate Argent is nothing if not flashy and an expert with munitions. It’ll be exactly the kind of distraction they need.

“Activate your beacon, Gecko,” Chris orders, and Jackson does it without question. “I’ve got a map here I’ve been told was made by Moonlight.”

“Crafted by the finest light in the darkness,” Jackson says and Chris snorts. As jokes go, it’s weak, but Jackson’s getting close to losing it, and he doesn’t dare let go right now. “Normally I’d say you can trust it with your life, but it turns out it’s not as perfect as we thought. We got into trouble when we had a Kanima on our tail and ran into an unexpected wall.”

“Your Rabid?”

“Destroyed. But we’re alive.”

Chris hmms, and Jackson stays silent, cataloging every breathe Danny takes, listening for any new hitches or things to worry about. “Can you walk, Gecko, and can you carry your cargo?”

“Check and check,” Jackson replies. “If it comes to him or me, I want him out of here.”

“You’re an alpha,” Chris reminds him quietly. “You have high value.”

Jackson glances at the man unconscious against his shoulder. “Yeah. Well. So does he.”

It takes him some time to arrange things so that he is carrying Danny’s bag of equipment slung across his body, then to lift Danny gently in his arms. “It’s going to be slow going,” he says quietly. He’s not willing to rush this and risk killing Danny himself.

“It’ll give us time to get in.”

“Right.” Jackson takes a step forward, getting the hang of the movement with Danny as a dead weight, and slowly starts going exactly where Chris tells him to go.

#

It’s a good thing Jackson doesn’t get tired, not like he used to before the alpha project. He was always in good shape, but now instead of running twenty miles and feeling it at the end, he could probably do it at a good clip and be ready to go another twenty after he’s done.

Being a super soldier has its advantages.

Jackson would give it all up just to share his healing with Danny.

“I need to stop.”

“Take a break, hon.” Erica’s voice is hoarse. Allison took over from Chris a while back, and Erica took over after her. Jackson hasn’t asked after any of the other squad members, not wanting to know if they had losses. He can’t do anything about it, not yet, and he needs to not let himself get distracted.

Danny is distracting enough.

“The break isn’t optional. Danny looks like death.” Pale as moonlight, Jackson thinks, only everyone normally finds moonlight luminescent. Danny’s skin is flat, almost grey. But he’s still breathing, slow labored breaths that hitch every once in a while.

“Brace,” Erica says curtly, and Jackson does so without thinking about it, turning so that his back is to the wall, Danny’s body cradled carefully, his stance wide. He feels the rumble underneath his feet and knows _something_ just blew up in crazy, chaotic, and hopefully catastrophic ways.

“Psycho?”

“She went in and flames came out.”

Jackson blinks because that means they don’t know yet if she’s still alive. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Look, am I almost there?” He’s been going deeper into the base, traveling along paths he never memorized before they began this jaunt. If they’re coming to get him, he should be heading towards an inlet, but since Kate probably just blew up the best entrance, he has no idea how they’re going to pull this off. “Because I’m starting to feel like you guys just want me to walk around in circles until I fall over and we’re done.”

“It’s not like that, Gecko.” Erica’s voice is sharp, angry. “We’re trying to get someone in to save your ass, so you don’t need to _be_ an ass about it. Shut up and do what we need you to do so you can be rescued.”

“My squad?”

“Silent. Leave it.”

“Who’s coming in?”

“Whoever we can get to you. This isn’t easy… you made the plans, you know what it’s like. Our best pilot is already inside.”

Jackson growls softly. “Can you tell me how fucking close—”

“No.” Erica’s voice is flat. “Jackson we’ve—we’re not actually _in contact_ right now. With them. They’ve got their paths, they’ve been given a location, and I’m getting you to that point. You get there, and someone will pick you up. I _promise_.”

“Don’t promise something that’s not yours to give,” Jackson says dryly. He mutes his comm; he knows he needs to hear her, but he doesn’t feel like talking anymore. And he doesn’t feel like her hearing everything he says.

It gives him privacy while he manages to lift Danny again, carrying him too carefully, worried for that grey skin and the darkness he sees around his mouth. When Erica starts to talk, Jackson follows the directions blindly, letting her lead him through the maze inside the base. His attention is on Danny, and he is thankful that they don’t run into any more lizards because he’s not sure he’d even be aware enough to notice.

His best friend is dying and Jackson is absolutely _terrified_ of losing him.

“Stop,” Erica says, and Jackson looks around, trying to figure out what’s different about _here_.

“Going silent,” he replies, and he turns the comm off completely. An emergency will get through, but he needs it quiet as he settles Danny, checks his arm (bruised, battered, and still bent at the wrong angles), then his chest (rising and falling with slow, shallow breaths… there’s a low whine along with the whisper of damage to his lungs). Jackson slumps next to him.

“Don’t give up on me,” he says quietly, tangling his fingers with Danny’s and holding on, as if that will keep him there and alive. “I’m not giving up on you, so don’t you dare give up on me.”

When he hears the breathing stop, his own rasps in his chest, hiccuping through the next moment.

This can’t be happening. It _can’t be happening_.

Jackson won’t _let_ it happen.

He eases Danny to the floor and tilts his head back, letting his mind summon training for something that he’s never actually _done_ before. He slots his mouth over Danny’s, pinches his nose, and he breathes. Slow, careful, forcing Danny’s chest to rise and fall with the rhythm of Jackson’s breath. It doesn’t take long before Danny’s doing it on his own again and Jackson sits back, the rapidfire beat of his own heart shaking his body.

“Hell of a way to get me to kiss you,” he says, and the words fall flat because there isn’t time for joking. But what else can he do, because he’s stuck here waiting. Hoping. Praying for someone to come get them, and Jackson really isn’t the praying type.

Right now, though, it’s all he has left.

#

When rescue comes, she’s on foot and running down the hallway, skidding to a stop and looking at them, her eyes wide. “Fuck,” Cora whispers. “He looks like shit.”

“Thanks.” Jackson sneers at her. “Don’t just stand there, help me get him to your Rabid.”

In all of this, he knows there is one thing no one has thought of: Jackson’s Rabid was remodeled to carry Danny. Cora’s Rabid isn’t going to carry one extra person easily, let alone two.

That means Danny’s getting out. Jackson isn’t.

Cora wedges a shoulder under Danny, and Jackson takes the other side. She’s tall for a woman and he’s relative short for a guy so it balances out, although Danny’s feet drag. Still, it’s easier than how Jackson had been carrying him, and in some ways he suspects it’s gentler on Danny’s lungs, less likely to crush something that isn’t working particularly well.

“Sorry I had to park so far away,” Cora says. “Turns out, they don’t make parking lots for invasions in these bases. It’s amazing what a girl has to go through to even visit. Of course, they didn’t make _my_ Rabid explode, so I’m already one up on you.”

“It didn’t explode, it broken. And I took them out with me,” Jackson says curtly. “You going to be able to fire yours up again without frying me?” As they approach, he takes stock of the position. She spun the Rabid while setting it down, so it points outward, but there isn’t a lot of clearance around it. The only way he’s going to survive the engines firing up is by being nowhere near it. “I’ll go back to the rendezvous point; that should keep me out of the blast.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“I’m not leaving Danny behind.”

Cora raises both eyebrows. “Are you being an idiot on purpose? I didn’t tell you to leave Danny behind. You aren’t the only one who’s going to be taking shit for destruction of property.”

He frowns, because the Rabid is _right there_. It’s not destroyed.

She sends him up first with instructions to throw down the harness which is little more than a makeshift tangle of ropes designed to help lift Danny up. Jackson has to pause when he sees the cockpit, and the mess Cora has made of it.

There’s not much left.

The instrument panel is untouched, every control pristine and valid. Her seat is little more than a shell with a harness, the padding gone. Everything behind the seat has likewise vanished, leaving a gutted shell with a makeshift set of ropes hanging from it, tied to the sides.

He starts to laugh, a strangled sound that doesn’t have any mirth to it.

“Gecko!” Cora’s shout breaks through, and he twists to look down, tossing her the harness.

“Yeah, Bait?” His mouth twists into a fond smirk.

“Lydia would’ve had my head if I only came back with one of you.” She offers him a small shrug before bending to loop the harness under Danny’s arms, getting him as stable as she can. “Lift him up and get yourself tied in as much as you can. This is going to be a bumpy ride out.”

They end up tangled together in the back, Danny’s long legs folded with Jackson’s slipped between as he cradles him close. Cora has to help bind them into place, tying ropes into knots that Jackson knows he could break if he needed to, but that will hopefully hold. She finishes with a kiss to each of their foreheads before she turns around and settles herself back into her seat.

“Flying without a net and without headgear, so hope we don’t get blown out of the sky,” she says curtly. “It’s all or nothing, baby.”

Jackson brings his comm back to life just in time to hear her announce, “Bait to BetaOne. We’re coming out, and we’re coming out hot. Get an escort ready to bring us home.”

She fires up the engine and all Jackson can do is brace for the ride.


	5. Chapter 5

They won’t let Jackson follow Danny into surgery.

“He’s had severe trauma, and like a pair of idiots, the two of you made it far, far worse than it would’ve been if we’d rescued you immediately,” Lydia tells him sharply. When Jackson tries to stand up, small hands shove him back into the chair. “No. You are _not_ going anywhere. You are going to sit there and think about what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done?” Jackson spreads his hands. “We’ve changed the war. We’ve made a huge step towards rescuing the human race. What the _hell_ are you talking about, Lydia?”

“ _You scared me_.” Her voice is sharp, high-pitched and angry, shivering with unshed tears. “You _terrified_ me, and you put my partner in danger, and you made it so I almost lost _everyone_ I care most about, you _asshole_.”

“I scared me, too,” Jackson admits, which isn’t easy to say out loud, but if he can’t say it to Lydia (or Danny), who else could he say it to? He opens his arms and she sinks onto his lap, cuddling close. He feels the burst of wet on his shoulder, the tears that come out silently, her shoulders shuddering, and he strokes her back while she cries.

“You should be with Cora,” he murmurs.

She slaps his chest. “No, you idiot, I should be with you. That’s our Danny in there, and I know you love him as much as I do. Cora’s alive, and I know that, and she’ll be with me tonight when I have to go home. But you don’t have anyone but me.”

“I have my squad.”

Lydia snorts, the sound wet with tears. “You’ll never let them see you like this.”

She’s right, he knows. By the time they come in, he wants to make sure he’s strong again. Ready to deal with them, because he can’t be anything less than perfect in their eyes. It’s okay that Lydia knows the truth, and he could never hide anything from Danny. Turns out he hid even less than he knew.

“Danny knows about the Alpha project,” he murmurs.

“Well, yes.” Lydia makes a small, matter-of-fact, hmph. “He’s not stupid. I told you that you should just tell him.”

“I told him,” Jackson says. “Deaton will kill me, I’m sure, but I told him everything.” He’s still mulling over what Danny told him in return.

“And does he think you’re a monster?”

“No.” Which is what he’d been afraid of, of course. That Danny would look at him differently, that it would change their friendship. “Nothing changed.”

Lydia cocks her head, and Jackson wonders what she hears in his voice. “Something did,” she says quietly. Her hand curls against his cheek, fingers light and cool. “Something’s different.”

“I’m okay.”

She huffs a small laugh. “I didn’t say you weren’t. I’ll give you a professional examination later, but I’m sure you’ve come through this smelling like roses. You always do. Unlike certain other Alphas who manage to need every ounce of help with healing. I swear, I have no idea how he does it. Are you _sure_ Derek’s a member of Alpha squad?”

“How bad was it?”

“Let’s just say we lost more than one Rabid in this fight. You can get the full details from your squad later.” She curls against him, her head on his chest, and he threads his fingers through her hair, taking comfort in the closeness. “They’ll be in soon, I’m sure.”

Jackson lets it go. He needs to find his composure before they get here. They might be his squad—his _pack_ —but they don’t get to see the soft, squishy emotional side of him. Ever.

#

Jackson is dozing when the squads come in. Lydia is curled by his side, still mostly asleep as they all try not to disturb her, but Jackson is instantly alert. He frowns slightly, sniffing, and he gives Derek a look.

“Deaton’s working on the healing factor,” Derek mutters, wincing when Laura claps his shoulder.

“If you didn’t insist on being at the center of every firefight, it might go better,” she points out.

“Mom’s already taken him to task about the condition of his Rabid.” Scott grins. “She’s being such a _mom_ about it. She’s yelled at Derek, Kate, and Cora. Although Cora at least managed to bring hers back in working condition.” He shrugs one shoulder at Jackson. “She’ll yell at you later. Yours is the only one that’s missing completely.”

“Did we lose anyone?” Jackson does a quick headcount. His whole squad is here, even if Derek smells like blood and antiseptic. Allison is close to Scott, while Isaac lingers near both of them. Cora has taken up a position on the other side of Lydia and is coaxing her sleeping partner away from Jackson. Chris and Matt are present but separate from everyone else, which is normal. “Where are Boyd and Erica?”

“Bonding,” Cora says dryly. “Go interrupt them. I dare you.”

“No thanks.” Jackson won’t interfere, and his gaze drifts to the door, waiting for news about Danny. He’s not sure how long it’s been at this point, but it seems like _too_ long. “What about Kate?”

“Banged up,” Chris says.

Derek speaks over him. “Being forced into bed rest. She was pissed off when I was allowed to walk out.”

“That’s the difference between an Alpha and an Omega,” Lydia points out, still half asleep. “I could give you the medical specifications, but really Derek, just because she has the attitude does _not_ mean she’s unbreakable.”

He rolls his eyes. “Didn’t say she was. I was all for her being stuck with whatever it was to keep her down. She needs it. They think she banged her head hard when her Rabid got ejected from the base after that last explosion. If we hadn’t followed her beacon, she never would’ve made it back here.”

Jackson can put together the pieces then, that Derek charged into the middle of a battle to drag Kate’s dead Rabid out of it and get her back safely. And Scott and Laura never would have let him go alone.

As much as Jackson needed his squad right then, he understands how things work. They didn’t leave him alone, and out of everyone, he suspects Cora had the most emotional investment in getting him out alive, which worked out for everyone involved.

“How much damage did they take?”

“A lot.” Allison’s grin is quick and sharp and feral. “There’s a lot of communication going on in the aftermath, but our best translator is in surgery, so we can’t say how well the mission worked overall. But given that the panic seems to be spreading, we think there’s _something_ going on.”

Jackson doesn’t miss the quick flash in Scott’s eyes, or the way he turns away from his girlfriend.

“It’s not genocide,” Laura says quickly, and at her tone Scott looks at the ground. “This plan was specifically devised to bring the Kanima into a situation where we can broker peace. But before that can happen, they needed to stop trying to kill us.”

“Sometimes it’s kill or be killed, Scott,” Isaac points out.

“You are too soft-hearted to be an Alpha.” Allison rubs Scott’s back and kisses his cheek.

The slide of the door takes attention away from Scott. Jackson is standing before the door is completely open, taking several steps towards the door. Deaton holds up one hand and Jackson manages to stop, hands fisted by his side.

“How is he?” Jackson growls.

“He’s going to be fine,” Deaton tells him. “He has a slight concussion. There was extensive damage to one lung, and his ribs needed work. The one arm required surgery and will require time to recuperate. If you’d like to see him…”

Everyone surges to their feet, Lydia wavering tiredly behind Jackson, Cora holding her upright.

Deaton blinks. “Just Jackson, for now, if you don’t mind. He’s still tired, and I don’t want him to be overwhelmed.”

They come up to Jackson, one by one, each touching his shoulder, clapping him on the back, giving him comfort in some way. He takes strength from the way Laura winds her arms around him and presses her cheek to his, and the way Derek squeezes his shoulder. He sees sympathy in Scott’s eyes just before he is yanked into a back-thumping embrace. Each of the Betas and Omegas touches him too, leaving Lydia for last. She kisses his cheek and rubs her face against his neck until he smiles.

“Take care of him for us,” she whispers. “Be there for him.”

“I will,” he murmurs into her hair, because he _will_.

As they walk through the door, Deaton touches a control panel and Jackson hears a sharp whine that makes his ears ache. Deaton smiles blandly. “There are ways to keep you and your squad mates from overhearing things you should not. I thought you might want to have this conversation privately.”

Jackson takes a step back. “ _What_ conversation?”

“Danny and I had a discussion about the Alpha project, and I re-evaluated his potential application for the program.”

This is not a direction Jackson wants to see happen. “And?” His voice drops low and careful, the growl almost out of range.

“Denied.” Deaton speaks quietly. “While it might have accelerated the healing process, it would have an unknown effect upon his intellect, and we value his mind too much to risk it. In the future, perhaps, it may well be an option. We are looking at other uses for the serum, and there may be other Alpha programs. But not now.” He cocks his head. “However, that means that your friend has a long road ahead of him for recovery, and very little time that we can afford to give him to do it. He will need your help.”

“Of course. Anything.”

Deaton gestures at one door along the hall. “Go on.”

#

When Jackson finally opens the door, Danny is sitting up in bed, one arm strapped to his chest, almost as if it is a part of the rest of his bandages. His head tilts to look at the door. “I wondered if you were ever going to come in.”

“How did you know…?” Jackson glances back at the now-empty hallway before he closes the door.

“These are not thick walls. I heard you and Deaton talking outside. Then nothing,” Danny admits. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”

“Would I do that?” Jackson grabs one of the chairs and pulls it up alongside the bed. “Who else is going to come in and give you shit while you’re resting? I might be able to trust Lydia, but she’ll never dig as deep as I can. And Cora… she can keep up, but she’s just too new. She doesn’t know you like I do.”

“So it’s left to you to keep me humble.” Danny grins, dimples winking.

“So it’s left to me.” Jackson faces the bed, leaning on it before he reaches out to touch Danny’s chest. “I hurt you more. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you did what you needed to do in order for us to finish the mission and survive.” Danny’s tone is firm as his other hand comes up to cover Jackson’s. “I went in there knowing I probably wouldn’t come back out. I’m _human_. All I needed to do was deliver the payload.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you there.”

Danny laughs, wincing. “I can’t laugh,” he says quickly. “Don’t make me laugh. But yes, you said that, many times. I swear I woke up once or twice after I passed out and you were telling every damned person you talked to on the comm.” He tilts his head. “I’m going to ask Deaton if I can get a comm. Even if I can’t be a part of the Alpha program, I can’t see why I wouldn’t be authorized for subdermal implants. Did he tell you that after this, my chest is never going to be the same?”

“He told me you wanted in on the program again,” Jackson says slowly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I know your opinion, and I’ve heard Lydia’s, too, believe me.” Danny reaches out, presses his hand against Jackson’s chest. “I’m a survivor. You know that. I’ve had my chest cracked open twice now to keep me alive. What Deaton said is that he can’t guarantee how the healing factor would affect that, given the scarring already present on my bones. He didn’t tell me the intellect thing he told you.”

What’s funny is that Jackson can see the reasoning behind the different stories. “He doesn’t want to tell you that you might lose your mind, and he doesn’t want to tell me that I might lose you completely,” he says dryly. “Sometimes he’s wise.”

“You’d miss me, but you’d go on.”

“Would I?” Jackson’s been thinking about this non-stop, ever since he almost lost Danny the first time. He hasn’t been able to _stop_ thinking about it since he helped him _breathe_ , when he thought Danny was slipping away and there wasn’t going to be anything he could do to haul him back. He swallows hard. “I told you, there are consequences to confessions. You lived, you have to deal with that.”

Danny flushes slightly and rolls his head to look away. “Look, just forget I said anything—”

“You’re not listening to what I’m trying to say.” Jackson interrupts him as he surges up out of the chair. Hands planted on the bed, he leans in and waits that moment for Danny to look at him before he drops his head just enough to fit mouth to mouth.

It’s not like rescue breathing.

And it’s not like kissing a girl, either.

At first, it’s not like much of anything, Jackson stiff because he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he’s terrified, and Danny startled into immobility. He draws back and sees that vulnerability in Danny’s gaze, and he knows that if he hurts him, he’s going to have to kick his own ass. And chances are, he’ll do damage. He’s an asshole. Jackson has always _been_ an asshole and he doesn’t think he knows how to change.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up.” Jackson does it again, moving his hand to plant on the other side of Danny’s shoulders, giving himself a better angle to fit their mouths together. He tries to relax, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and Danny’s mouth slides open in response. It should feel awkward, but it doesn’t, so Jackson slips his tongue in, tasting Danny, teasing him.

Maybe it’s not so different from kissing a girl after all. The mechanics are the same, but it’s _Danny_ that he’s tasting. It’s _Danny_ who makes a low sound that has Jackson pulling back, asking worriedly, “Did I hurt you?”

“Don’t stop, asshole.” Danny’s good hand tangles in his hair, pulls him down again and this time the kiss is stronger. Hungrier. Jackson tries to keep the pressure at bay because Danny’s hurt, but it’s hard not to just let go and let sensation take over.

He’s surprised by how much he wants this.

Jackson leans too hard at one point and Danny makes a pained sound, but they manage to move and find a better way to fit together. The kisses are slow and long, lazy and exploring. Jackson realizes he likes the feel of Danny’s hand over his head, the way his large fingers spread and cradle his skull, holding on tight. He likes the feel of Danny’s shoulder, the strength of his muscles, and he wants to feel his chest, once he’s healed.

He hears the slight difference in Danny’s breath when it catches slightly, and there is a low moan that sounds pained rather than pleasured. Jackson pulls back again and Danny bursts into a slow grin, dimples wide.

It’s just the fact that Danny’s here, and alive, and Jackson can’t imagine life without him. He smirks in response. “I told you that you’d have to deal with your confession.”

“I don’t think I’m going to mind much,” Danny responds. “This isn’t what I expected.”

“I thought about making your life awkward, but I’m selfish.” Jackson shrugs lazily. “If I made you miserable, I was going to miss my best friend. Plus, when I saved your ass, I realized that having my mouth on yours isn’t a bad thing. Just… give me time about the rest.”

“All the time you need,” Danny agrees. He lowers his hand, fingers brushing against Jackson’s cheek along the way. When he sets his hand over Jackson’s, they tangle their hands together. Danny closes his eyes. “I need to rest.”

“I’ll be here.” Jackson squeezes his hand, not letting go as he tries to find a more comfortable way to stretch in his chair and to relax. “I’m not going to leave you behind.”

Danny doesn’t respond except for a soft huff of an almost snore. Jackson listens, just for a moment, to make sure he’s breathing easily, then he slowly matches his own breath to Danny’s as he pillows his head against his crooked arm on the mattress.

It feels good to finally let go, and to know that it’s okay. When he wakes up in the morning, he’ll still have Danny. They went through hell, but they came out the other side, together.


End file.
